The Epic Tale of Bad Hair
by Paprika30
Summary: Snape considers his oily hair and the psychological damage it has caused him over the years.


_Disclaimer: These are J.K. Rowling's characters… can I have them? _

_Author's note: Well, this just seems to be an uploading day for me. I have a second chapter written for this already. Constructive criticism and review more than welcome!_

* * *

Chapter 1: Taming the Beast 

"_Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball."_

"I agree," said Potter, the Golden Boy Who Was Just Like His Idiot Father.

"My hair isn't oily!" Snape yelled, but as he ran his fingers through his hair, they were coated in grease. Potter went for a jar, saying that grease was good to fry bacon in. Snape reached for his wand to jinx Potter into another realm, but it slipped through his fingers. He kept trying to pick up his wand, but to no avail. The wand was now coated in a fine layer of grease. Potter was laughing at him, mocking him. The only upside to this was that Potter wasn't getting a sodding jar. At that very moment, Potter's pathetic sidekick Weasley decided to pop in with a jar and reach for Snape's head. "No!" Snape yelled, but they got closer and closer….

"I want bacon!" the pathetic Weasley drooled in a manner reminiscent of a troll. A rather tall, redheaded troll who was currently invading his personal bubble.

* * *

Severus tossed and turned, finally waking up from the rather disturbing nightmare. His hands flew to his hair, and immediately were lost in the oily mass. Snarling, he stood up and walked to his wardrobe, his night robes swishing about him as ominously as his regular robes did, though some of the effect was lost: his normal robes did not have the pink bunny print on them.

"_Lumos,"_ he muttered, looking in the mirror. Screwing up his face, he took in his reflection, specifically his hair. His hair didn't look like hair, or any kind of hair known to mankind at least. If anything, he would have decided that it looked like an oily pasta. To be specific, it would have been an oily pasta with long, stringy noodles.

His hair had been the source of embarrassment for many years; the root of his repulsive attitude. Snape was sure that if only his hair would look better, more people would like him. In turn, he would like more people, and they in turn would like him even more. The key to popularity was perfect hair, and that meant one thing. This grease problem had to be fixed.

Rifling through the potion vials that were in his room, he finally found _Pelo Bonito. _Conquistador Jorge Martinez had suffered from oily hair as well. After many years of searching, Severus had found the instructions to make the potion that Jorge had used in caring for his greasy hair. He didn't know if it worked- it wasn't certain that Martinez was not a Squib- but this was an emergency. Personal risk was to be put aside for the greater good- the well being of his hair. Pouring the potion on his head, he massaged it into his scalp. With a somewhat hopeful attitude, he went back to sleep.

When Severus woke up the next morning, his hair was smooth, silky, and dare he say it- bouncy. It had not looked like this in… ever. Wanting to show off his attractive (he thought it _very _sexy) new hair, he flooed to the Malfoy Manor.

Landing in Draco's bedroom, he yelled, "Look at my hair!"

Draco looked up at Snape. _He woke me up to see his greasy HAIR? _"Uh… very nice, Professor Snape. I have hair too; in fact, I'll be buggered if we all don't have hair. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed."

"But it's wonderful!" Severus protested, his face lit up like Christmas had come early. At that, a droplet of grease fell from his hair. This was not supposed to happen… grease-free hair did not drip grease, "No! I just fixed it!" Snape seemed to channel the spirit of Jorge Martinez at that time, for he shouted, "_¡Hijo de la chingada!_" Or as he would normally say it, _son of a bitch! _

Draco pulled his emergency bottle of hair gel out of his nightstand drawer and tossed it to Snape. "Gel's a cure-all… and you might want to cut your hair. The less hair you have, the less grease that can attach itself to your hair. Now that we have discussed the finer aspects of hair and cursed in Spanish, I have some sleep to catch up on. Good night."

* * *

Snape flooed back to his room, wondering had gone wrong. Picking up the empty bottle, he realised with a sickening jolt that he had used the wrong potion.

_Cleaning Catastrophe_

_A great gift! Watch grease disappear from any surface, but reappear two times over in hours. Great for that neat freak in your life- watch them go completely nutters cleaning the same surface every day… only to multiply within hours. Works on any surface!_

_Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes_

Where on earth did he get that potion from? He certainly had never set a foot into that horrendous shop! _It must have been Potter,_ he concluded viscously. Harry Potter could escape the Dark Lord, but he would not slip through the (slightly oily) fingers of Professor Severus Snape. He was, after all, the Potions Master of all time. Potter was dead. Hell, those Weasleys were dead

Gel was not attractive; he knew that from years of experience. As the Slytherin Head of House, he had been forced to punish Pansy Parkinson on numerous occasions for sneaking up into the boys' dormitory to "see Drakie without that awful gel in his hair. Don't you think that he's dead sexy without the gel, Professor Snape?"

Snape blamed her parents for that idiotic comment. Surely Miss Parkinson had been dropped on her head numerous times as a child. There was no possible way that anyone could think that he, Severus Snape, was not straight. He had dated, much to the contrary of what was floated around school. Lois had been the perfect girlfriend… until he caught her with Curtis, that is. After that, the 14-year-old Severus had never given his heart away again. Surely no one thought that he was gay, he was only emotionally scarred. That stupid Lois had held his hair against him, yet another reason that something had to be done. _Pelo Bonito_ was out of the question, he couldn't do something like that twice in the same night. Draco's other suggestion, that foolish "cut your hair" idea would never do, short hair couldn't be tossed over the shoulder and besides that, long hair was in!

Sighing, Severus weighed his options and finally picked up the heavy glass bottle in which Draco kept his special-order, untouched by Muggle hands hair gel. He began to gel his hair, muttering curses all the while. He would deal with those juvenile delinquent twins and Harry bloody Potter once his hair was gorgeous once more. If he used enough gel, the grease wouldn't be visible, and that could only enhance the effectiveness of the torture they were to endure. Suddenly, the bottle of gel fell off the dresser with the resounding noise of shattering glass.

"Bugger. Blasted glass bottles." Suddenly, a thought hit Severus as unexpectedly as the bottle had hit the floor. It was a strange, outlandish idea, but it could possibly work. Snape gulped audibly, but proceeded to the bathroom. He was about to do the unthinkable… he was about to take a shower. He prepared himself for the shower, donning a shower cap and grabbing his rubber ducky.

Upon stepping into the shower, he turned the water on. The icy water shot through him like icicles. "This is why I don't like showers," he muttered irritably. Switching the water from hot to cold, he was greeted by scalding hot water. A cry of pain escaped him as he finally got the water to a lukewarm temperature. Squeaking the ducky twice, he tried to remember what was to be done next. Thinking hard, he finally lit up with a pleased expression as he grabbed a dusty bar of soap. He began to scrub at himself with it, all the while mumbling discontentedly.

He reached up to scrub his hair with the infernal soap, but found that the shower cap was in the way. Odd, he had thought that shower caps were needed in the shower. Nonetheless, he discarded of the shower cap and began to scrub his hair with the soap. He would have beautiful hair, no matter what.

After Snape had finally finished with his torturous shower, he dried off and donned a set of clean robes. As he yanked a comb through his hair, he wondered if this was all worth it.

* * *

Harry Potter was at number twelve, Grimmauld Place the summer after his sixth year. He, Ron, and Hermione were about to set off to look for the Horcruxes. He sipped at a cup of coffee as he skilfully tuned out the argument that Ron and Hermione were currently engaging in. All at once, he heard the tinkling of breaking china.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, his eyes as large as the saucer he had just broken. Hermione looked at Ron curiously before shifting her gaze to where Ron was currently staring. Her jaw dropped. Surprised to hear the arguing stop, Harry looked up and beheld a most outlandish sight.

Severus Snape smirked at the befuddled Dream Trio, before asking quite proudly, "Like my hair?" Perhaps showers did have their benefits.

* * *

_(Another!) Author's Note: The quote at the beginning of the story is from the American hardcover version of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, page 287. "Pelo Bonito" is Spanish for "Beautiful Hair."_


End file.
